


Always Yours

by kat_snow2613



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jealousy, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_snow2613/pseuds/kat_snow2613
Summary: When a mysterious soldier arrives at Winterfell, it causes tension in Jon and Sansa's new marriage.





	

Jon and Sansa sat in their chamber in front of the fire. Sansa was working on her sewing, while Jon was brooding—more so than usual.

They had been been married for a few months now. At first it had all been so strange, but after some time they had fallen into comfortable rhythm. They would walk through Winterfell together, take meetings with their advisors, and review everything over dinner before a quiet evening together. Even making love, which at first had been so strange, became familiar. Jon was always gentle and kind, making sure Sansa was comfortable the entire time. He was sweet to her, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Things were well between the two of them.

Which was why Sansa couldn’t understand Jon’s sour mood this evening. He’d been staring into the fire, arms crossed, letting out the occasional dramatic sigh. Yet he did not say anything. Sansa took it upon herself to bring it up.

“Is everything alright, my lord?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of her sewing.

“Fine,” he replied.

It was a full five minutes of silences before he started again.

“That man, the enormous one, with the horribly burnt face,” Jon mentioned.

Sansa knew immediately who he meant. There was only one person in all of the Seven Kingdoms with that description, and he had arrived in Winterfell two weeks ago. He’d arrived with the most recent batch of hedge knights and sellswords who knew that Winterfell needed men. Sansa had been chatting with one of the masons when he rode through the gates. The moment she saw him, she could see green fire burning on the Blackwater. She heard herself singing a song, and could still feel his rough, twisted scars under her hand. She immediately turned and ran into the castle, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Sandor Clegane,” she answered, still focused on her work.

“He watches you. It doesn’t matter if you’re halfway across the yard. Do you know him?” Jon questioned sharply. 

“Of course, he was Joffrey’s personal guard,” Sansa explained.

“Did you know him well?” Jon asked.

Sansa finally put down her sewing. “I don’t think anyone truly knows Sandor Clegane.”

Jon rolled his eyes dramatically, growing tired of Sansa’s avoidance. “Well, what exactly happened between the two of you?”

“A great deal,” she said, still avoiding a complete answer.

“Such as?” he asked impatiently. Sansa was not certain how honest she could be with Jon. And how could she explain her feelings to someone else when she did not entirely understand them herself?

“He protected me. He saved my life. He offered to take me from King’s Landing,” she explained.

Jon eyed her skeptically. “Why didn’t you go with him?”

“He also held a knife to my throat,” she felt a strange rush of relief when she said the words aloud. She had never told that to anyone else. Jon knew she’d endured a great deal at Kings Landing, and tried to gently ask her about it, but she did her best to keep the worst from him. 

Jon stood, suddenly moving around the room, looking for something.

“What are you doing?” she asked, afraid she knew the answer.

“Getting Longclaw. I’m going to kill him,” he stated. 

“No, Jon stop. I know it sounds awful. And it is. But he never hurt me. He’s…a tortured soul. His brother held his face to a fire when he was just a boy,” she explained. She still pitied the man who’d knelt in front of her at the tourney of the Hand, for the boy that he’d been, and the man that he’d become.

“It sounds like you pity someone who held a knife to your throat,” Jon said angrily.

“I do,” she said, shocked by her own honesty. “It’s taken me a long time to understand that just because I pity him, it doesn’t mean I have to forgive him.”

“Do you care for him?” Jon demanded.

“ No. Because I love you. No one else.” It was a strange moment. They suddenly realized that neither of them had said that to the other, at least not in their marriage. 

“I love you too, Sansa,” he said. He seemed to relax, but his hands were still gripping the back of a chair. “But I need you to understand something,” he continued. His voice was quiet but urgent. There was an intensity to his eyes Sansa had never seen. It thrilled her in a new, strange way.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“You are mine. No one else’s,” he stated as he crossed the room to her. 

Her sewing fell to the floor with a clatter as he pulled her to him. He kissed her deeply. 

This was not the same Jon, and these were not the same kisses. He did not gently brush her hair away. He tangled his fingers in it, and pulled hard, making a soft moan escape her lips. He did not brush light kisses on her face as he had every night thus far. He sucked hungrily on her neck, leaving bright red marks behind. He began to bite and suck on her earlobe. “Do you understand, Sansa?” he asked. With his mouth so close to her ear, his voice vibrated through her whole body. “Yes, yes,” she murmured. 

“Tell me, Sansa,” Jon said, pulling at the ties of her dress.

“I belong to you, Jon,” she said as her breasts were exposed. 

He began to cup her breasts, rolling rough thumbs against her nipples. He picked up his wife and carried her to the bed. He pulled her out of her remaining skirts and hose until she was naked on the bed, her hair a mess and her lips red. He spread her legs and began to kiss her thighs, but it was not enough for him. He began to lick her cunt. He’d tried before, but Sansa would always wiggle away, or pull him back up to her for a kiss. Not tonight. She complied, and allowed her husband to suck on her sex. 

His mouth was wet and strange against her. She allowed herself to look down and watch. It was obscene: her legs were spread like a whore, his mouth and nose were buried in her flesh. It thrilled her. He began to alternate the strokes of his tongue with a finger sliding back and forth over her lips. Her cunt began to throb under his attention. She twisted and turned, not certain she could bear it, but he held her hips in place, digging into her flesh. It was becoming too intense for her, and she began to struggle and moan, but he would not relent. Finally the pleasure overcame her resistance, and she collapsed back on the bed, calling out in a strangled voice. Jon kept licking and sucking until she shuddered and lay still. He finally pulled away, wiping his mouth. He pulled away only long enough to undress.

Sansa hoped he would crawl back up her body, kiss her, and fuck her as hard as he could. Instead, he put his hands on her and flipped her onto her stomach. He put an arm on either side of her and laid between her legs, his body pressing against her bottom. She felt his cock pressing into her. She widened her legs until he slipped in, and the both gasped.

Jon had never taken Sansa from behind. He’d always hovered over her, kissing and comforting her as they made love. But now, she was face down in the furs as he thrust against her. He was claiming her in every way: his cock was in her cunt, his body was pressing hers into the bed. But it wasn’t enough for Jon. He wanted to hear it from her mouth. He pulled her face close to his. “Do you like that?” he asked.

“Yes,” she panted.

“You like it when I take you from behind?” he asked again.

“Oh, oh gods, yes,” she moaned.

“Tell me, Sansa,” he demanded.

“I love it…when you take what’s yours…I’m yours, Jon. All yours,” she managed to say, while gasping for air. With every stroke of his hips, Jon pushed Sansa’s clit against the bed. The pressure was building both outside and within her. There were also incredible feelings all over her body: Jon’s chest hair on her back, his mouth on her neck, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. His body covered hers completely. She felt claimed, but she also felt protected, safe, and warm. 

Jon began to pound her harder into the bed. His cock stroked her while she grinded against the bed. The pressure was too much, and she came. Her orgasm triggered his, the contractions around his cock setting him off. He collapsed on top of her. Laying on the bed, Jon’s weight pressing down on her, she’d never been more content. 

Worried he’d eventually be too heavy for her, Jon rolled to his back and pulled her to him. They snuggled into one another. After some time, their breathing returned to normal.

A strange courage took over Sansa. She asked, “Are you going to send Sandor away…or worse?”

“Only if you want me to,” Jon answered.

“No. You need all of the fighting men you can get, and if he’s anything, he’s a savage warrior,” Sansa said, putting the needs of Winterfell above her own, as was her duty. 

“Aye,” Jon agreed. She was surprised he’d agreed so quickly, especially considering he’d been ready to behead him moments ago.

“What changed your mind?” she asked. 

“I know now that you’re mine,” he said softly. 

Sansa pulled herself up until their faces were level and she could look into his eyes. 

“I was always yours,” she said, before she kissed him.


End file.
